News Girl
by Ea Larson
Summary: In 1890 my father left leaving three things behind: the apartment, 300, and his ragged top hat. Though my mother worked full time out income wasn’t that great. Solution: Join Spot Conlon and the Brooklyn Newsies.
1. Meeting Spot

The year was 1890 and the day after school let out for the summer my father left, leaving behind the three hundred dollars he had been saving for ten years since we crossed the Atlantic from Ireland to come to New York and his top hat he won in a bet. He was left for the west in search of land we could call home and when he did, me and my mother would go to him, leaving behind our cramped apartment in Brooklyn.

A week after his departure, mother wanted me to go to the grocer for sugar and flour for a cake she was going to make for one of her co-worker's birthday. I left the apartment building after tidying up my bed, arranged my hair into a loose pony tail with a small black ribbon, changing in to fresh clothes and putting on my shoes. I wasn't fond of the dresses I had to wear. Mother had saved some of her money to buy me new ones for my birthday and for payment for doing well in school. It really wasn't much of a payment considering that I didn't like them, but they were better than the ones that were too small for me. The one I was wearing that day was an emerald green dress, and the only one I would wear without much complaining. Mother liked this dress the best because of how it "complimented" my pale freckled skin and Irish skin.  
Stepping out onto the sidewalk I noticed the newsie boys rushing around the streets yelling headlines and selling their papes. Every morning they were up doing the exact same thing they were doing now. There were faces I recognized from seeing them running around every day, and then there were others I didn't. And today there weren't many people on the streets except for the people going from one place to another. Other than that, it was quiet if the newsies weren't included.  
I headed down the street and on my way to the grocer not having to worry about being slowed down by a mob of people going the same direction. Normally it would take good ten or twenty minutes to get to where I was heading, but without all the people, I'd make in less than that. As I came to the second corner I was suddenly halted by a small brown haired boy carrying a small bundle of paper. He looked no older than seven years old but looked as if he had been collecting dirt on his body for twenty years. My heart dropped feeling the need to take him home and giving him a bath and a new home.  
"Would you like to buy a pape lady?" he asked holding out one of his papes. I frowned. Mother only gave me enough money to buy the sugar and flour. But he looked so sad! I hesitated and shook my head. His eyes dropped to the ground and dropped to his knees.  
"Pwease lady? I only ask for five cents a pape," he begged, clasping his hands together as if he was begging. I stepped back into a sea of guilt. I wanted to help the poor guy so bad but I couldn't.  
"Leo! Stop the guilt act and get your buttocks into selling those papes to someone with money!" a voice rang out from the alley. We both turned to see a tall blonde boy with red suspenders and a printed shirt. His eyes were big but full of adult like knowledge, a cane type thing in a sheath at his waist and in one hand he held a sling shot. The boy skittered off as he drew nearer and apologized to this boy named Spot.  
"Sorry about that miss. Little boys have no experience with being persuasive," he muttered. I shook my head.

"No it's fine. I would have given him money if he kept going." His face lit up slightly from the mention of money.

"You have some?"

"Uh-"

He laughed as if catching on to why I was hesitating.

"I'm not trying to sell papes. Only going to apologize for saying that you weren't someone with money."

"Technically. It really isn't mine."

"You stole it?"

"NO! Dear god no. I'm heading to the grocer to buy sugar and flour for my mother," I explained and he laughed again, a smirk creeping onto his face.

"Ah. So you took money to buy something for your mother. How sweet,"

"No!" I exclaimed and started to leave. He was handsome but frustrating, and I didn't have to time to waste on being accused of stealing money from my own mother. I stepped out onto the street and instantly was pulled backwards as a horse drawn cart drove by, barely missing me by three inches.

"You really need to watch where you step miss or you'll be flatter than a dime," this Spot said smiling. I harrumphed and attempted once again to cross the road. This time I was successful and was once again on my way to the grocer, only to have another person join me.

"Would you like some company miss? I can carry your bags on your way home." He suggested.

"If you wish. Or is there something in it for you? Like buying a pape?" I retorted. He smirked.

"Only asking to help a miss with her errands. I'm not selling papes," he said spreading out his arms to reveal that he wasn't carrying any papes. I sighed and nodded and he held out his elbow for me to hold on to. I allowed him the pleasure of one of my hands and as we made our way Newsies whistled and winked at him. I couldn't help but blush at the thought of knowing of what they were thinking. Of course whatever they were thinking wasn't true.

When we reached the grocer he held the door open for me as I entered and wouldn't allow me to try to carry the items I was to buy. Instead he shimmied away each time I insisted on inspecting them and headed for the counter. He placed them on the clerk's counter and demanded that they both were to be sold at half price.

"What are you doing?" I hissed but he only answered with a wink.

"And you sir think I will listen to a child like you?" the clerk rebuked.

"For Spot Conlon you will," Spot replied cheekily. The clerk shook his head and Spot began to talk about how outrageously high the prices for my items were. The clerk look from me to him, and back at me.

"Who is paying for these items?" the clerk asked. I was about to speak when I was blocked from view and Spot said, "I am."

Then I had had enough of this. He was wasting my time bartering with a clerk you was selling the cheapest supplies in area. I stepped around Spot, reached into my pocket and put the payment on the counter.

"I am sir," I said and stepped back noticing the frown that was now on Spot's face. The clerk took the money and opened the cash drawer and gave me a dime back for change. I handed it to Spot and grabbed my bagged sugar and flour as I made my way out.

Outside Spot didn't offer me his arm and didn't say anything about what had just went down in the store, but he did pocket the dime I gave him. When we reached my apartment he bowed and finally introduced himself.

"I'm Spot Conlon, one of the Brooklyn Newsies,"

"I'm Shea Macbeth, head of nothing but my own life,"

"Can I see you to your door Miss Macbeth?" he asked and smirked. Probably from the fact that I didn't hesitate to introduce myself.

"I go by Shea. Only older men call me Miss Macbeth,"

"Who said I wasn't older than you? For all you know I can be almost eighteen,"

"Are you almost eighteen Mr. Conlon?"

"No, but almost seventeen,"

"That's only a year above. Doesn't count,"

"Ah so being only a year above you makes me not older?"

"Yes! Now are you going to see me to my apartment or not?" I asked angrily. He smirked and bowed as he opened the main door. As we went up the stairs he took the liberty of telling me everything about the Brooklyn Newsies. How they were the most respected of the Newsies and definitely were the toughest. No New York Newsies would have gone through with the strike two years back if Brooklyn hadn't joined. He was rather full of himself, but also proud of the union he was in.

At my door he took my hand bowed and kissed it. I blushed and shook my head. He smirked and straightened up and then said something that would revolutionize my thinking for the rest of the day and start an adventure of a new kind.

"I'm glad to have been in service to you today Miss Shea. If you were a newsy I would buy a million papes from you."

I smiled as the compliment ran through my mind, and then started to take it literally too. I nodded and thanked him for his service. He bowed again as I disappeared into my apartment. Through the door I could hear him say my name a couple times as he walked down the stairs. My mind began to race as I started to formulate the revolutionary idea into a plan and how I'd bring it up to my mother. Then I rushed to put the bag of sugar and flour on the kitchen counter and raced to the fire escape. I was just in time to see him exit the building and was able wave him down.

"Mr. Conlon!"

He looked up and returned my wave with his own wave and a smirk. Being on the third floor of the building helped either of us not have to yell so loud to be heard by one another.

"Yes Miss Shea?" he answered.

"Thank you!" I said and smiled bigger than I felt like I had smiled before.

"Anytime Miss Shea. I'll see you soon!" he said beaming and ran off down the street and into an alley. I leaned back as I gripped the railing. I couldn't wait to see him again, but I thought to myself that it would be sooner than he thought if tonight went well.


	2. Plotting and A Bet

That night I fixed up the house, made dinner, and all while I prepared myself to take on mother in an argument. I knew she wouldn't be keen on the idea of me joining a crowd of boys that could easily try to take advantage me. That's why I came up with a disguise. Since girls my age weren't seen as capable of doing the mind's work like mathematics and science. Instead we were taught how to sow and knit and house work. And especially how to be lady like around men that could possibly be rich and court us. I hated that idea. Our world revolved too much about who has the most stuff and who had the biggest things. I wanted to marry a simpleton with good reachable goals and aspirations. A boy with his heads in a cloud could be trouble and leave a mess if he makes the wrong mistake.

But with the basic knowledge of sowing was going to help my cause, fitting a pair of my father's old clothes to fit me and not look to frumpy. The mistake of not making it fit well enough would cause suspicion. After seeing what Spot wore, he clothes weren't very baggy, but whatever lose clothe there was he had somewhat tucked in his pants. And hopefully I could buy myself some boy's shoes if anyone asked why I was wearing girl's shoes on my first day.

And I didn't wait for mother's approval before setting to work on my disguise. I snipped and sowed faster than I thought I was capable while still being able to do a neat job, and when my mother did get home, I was sitting on the chair cutting the last line of thread.

She smiled tiredly with feathers stuck on her clothing and headed to the kitchen. She turned on the stove to heat the soup I had already made. Yes, I made it early since I knew that if I waited till the last minute I wouldn't have it done in time for her arrival. She plopped on the chair next to me and sighed heavily, seemingly relieved that her day of work was over.

"Good evening mother," I chimed, putting on a pleasant smile on my face to get her in a good mood. She opened one eye with a suspicious glance. I had inherited her deep green Irish eyes, but hers held wit that I still had to earn. After all the years of working in the chicken factory hadn't dulled her mother's wit.

"I'm supposing you are want something with that cheeky little smile of yours Shea," she said, her voice thick with as much suspicion as she had Irish accent, which was another trait she hadn't lost since we moved to Brooklyn. And when she said little sounded like little. I had only a reminisce of our culture's accent, only to be replaced by a little bit of the weird Brooklyn accent.

But I couldn't deny the defeat of her already knowing that I was up to something. I frowned and started to take a different approach than I originally planned.

"I was only thinking about trying to help bring in the income,"

"You're not working. You have to finish schooling,"

"I was thinking just a summer's job that doesn't have a pay check and doesn't have the middle man bossing me around all the time. Something that I can walk around and get paid for,"

"You're not becoming a prostitute either," she droned unhappily.

"For heaven's sake mother! Why would I do that? I don't even have a reason to want to do that myself! I was hoping of joining the Newsies!" I blurted and instantly regretted it.

"You are a woman Shea! Not a street rat with no respect!"

"But I'll make money!"

"You'll be taken advantage of Shea,"

"Nope," I replied and whipped out the outfit I had just fitted for myself. I also explained that I could use a bandage to help flatten my chest, which was pretty flat already, and wear father's top hat to hide my hair, or there was the option of cutting the pieces closest to my neck along with the top hat so I could further the impression of a short haired Irish boy. But mother still looked untrusting.

"Mother look, just let me try. I don't want to be moss on a log this summer, and I can try out this disguise before I go and join the Newsies. If it doesn't work, then I'll come home and resume my duties of a normal girl," I said hoping she'd bargain with me. She looked at me with a glitter in her eye. Mother was never able to pass up a bet. She loved being right and was a hard person to beat. She nodded and explained that she had to be there to witness me stepping out into the street and to make sure if my plan worked. Mother also liked adventures, inside her she was still a little Irish girl dreaming of the adventure. And I'm sure she knew I wanted to do what she wished she had done too.

I smiled and thanked her, hugging her and rushed into the closet to try on my newly tailored outfit. On the shelf I grabbed the top hat, shoved my hair up in the after I was fully dressed and burst out of the closet. Mother looked at my twice and it finally clicked in her brain. She was already losing the bet. I looked in the mirror and spread out my arms to present my reflection to my disguise and giggled. Then I stopped, cleared my throat and laughed a little deeper. If I went deeper it would have been obvious I was faking it, and it wasn't bad for a first try. I turned to mother and beamed. I was going to be a Newsie!


	3. A Complication on my Window Sill

Unfortunately the next day mother had work like any other day, and I was stuck at home. I did take the time working on my hair. First I tied all of it on the top of my head and put on the hat to know where I didn't need to cut. Luckily I was only going to have to cut ones close to me neck so when I had to be normal I could just wear my hair down and cover up the shorter hairs underneath. With two mirrors angled so I could see the back of my head and a pair of shears, I carefully cut the area designated to make me look like a boy. I had to make sure I didn't cut too much in fear of cutting more than needed since I couldn't just undo the mistakes. And for the most part I did absolutely fine. I had cut the right amount and was very much satisfied with my work.

I set the hat with my disguise and let down my hair, concealing my shortened hair underneath. I twirled in front of the mirror inspecting every angle to make sure there weren't any hairs sticking out. I laughed at my accomplishment. Everything so far was going well. I would become a Newsy and hopefully there wouldn't any complications. I sat myself in a chair and kept smiling at my cleverness.

Outside I could hear someone coming up the fire escape and the Newsies yelling the headlines once again this early in the morning, being nine o' clock, on an empty street day. Hopefully when I began to work I wouldn't have to worry about scouring the streets endlessly to find someone to sell papes to.

After a small rapping on the window, a voice came from outside on the fire escape.

"Miss Shea!"

I turned around to see Spot tapping the window with his cane and smirking. I scrambled to the window and slammed it open. He dropped his papes and put away his cane in his pant's belt.

"Mr. Conlon! Why didn't you go through the front door like a normal gentlemen would?" I exclaimed and sat back down. He laughed and tipped his hat as he bowed before sitting on the window sill. His adult eyes twinkled as he leaned made himself comfortable.

"Why should I be a normal gentleman? I have more than a half a brain to be normal so I figured it would be faster to go up this way rather than take my time through the hallways? Especially when a busy guy like me needs to be able to make a fast break?"

"Busy huh? Then what are you hanging around here for? Shouldn't you be selling your papes?" I quizzed. He smirked and his eyes narrowed.

"Miss Shea, you are a strange girl. You open up the window looking glad to see me then all of a sudden gets all huffy over me surprising you on your window sill. Should I try again?" he replied and began to back away.

I rebuked and grabbed onto the back of his shirt to make him stop. He looked over his shoulder and smirked.

"You have guts Miss Shea. That's what I like about you,"

I gulped. My mind began to race as I repeated his words.

"L-l-like. About me?" I stammered. He nodded and smirked. And then he began to stammer too.

"Not like I would be able to take you as my girl or anything Miss Shea. I just met you and all. Way to soon Miss Shea," he laughed nervously. I laughed the same way and looked away.

"What about me? I mean I hope it's not my looks or money you're interested in,"

"No! I mean you have beautifully fiery hair and mysterious green eyes, but it's mainly your personality Miss Shea. You don't fear me and hold a good conversation with me. The other boys seem to too but your way is way different from theirs. You don't talk about other skirts such as yourself or about how much money you want,"

"Would you be able to know who I was even if I dressed up differently? Like a totally different outfit and hid my hair," I asked hastily. He seemed befuddled by my question.

"Why would you do that? Are you trying to lose me or something?"

"No! Just wondering," I said and looked down into my lap. I didn't want to ask too many questions about disguising myself due to the fact that I could give it away. I had just found my complication in my plan. And it's name was Spot Conlon.

"Miss Shea? I wouldn't want you to alter your appearance so that you seem more appealing to me. And if you are planning on it I hope I could persuade you out of doing so," I he said as he lowered his head into my sight. I smiled.

"Now why would I do something silly like that? I'm not the type to change myself for someone else, or else I'd be like all the other girls trying to find a man to support me. That's definitely not me Mr. Conlon," I said, trying to be reassuring. He smiled back and nodded, his blonde hair coming loose from underneath his hat. We began to talk of other things, like how I used to live in Ireland and his growing up in an orphanage and joining the Newsies of Brooklyn.

From down the stair well I heard Spot being called by several voices. He took my hand as he lead me out on to the fire escape and exchanged some brief words between a couple of other boys that said that they needed him.

"Sorry that I got to go," he said as he bowed and kissed my hand.

"Don't be. Got to pay for the clothes on your back right?"

"Right Miss Shea," he said and turned to leave. But I had one last thing to say.

"Mr. Conlon?"

"Yes?" he said with his hair swishing as he turned to see me. Looking him the eyes was seemingly becoming harder now that I felt like I could stare into them all day. But I had to buck up and make sure I didn't waste his time.

"I don't want to keep you from working each day. Please if you'd like come by after you've sold your papes for the day. Maybe then you can have dinner with me and my mother instead of coming and going without being fed," I replied, trying to sound somewhat civilized. He smiled like a little boy and nodded.

"I'd like that Miss Shea. Only if you're mother is as fierce as you,"

I rolled my eyes, "Where do you think I got it from?"

As he left he laughed and once again I watched him walk away down the street and into an alley. All the while he'd look back as if he was making sure I didn't disappear in a puff of cigar smoke. And of course I didn't. I leaned on the railing as I felt my mind go off into a dream I wasn't used to having. I shook my head and stepped through the window.

Another reason I had asked to come in the afternoon when he was done with his selling papes was that if he came in the morning while I was disguised and out in the street like he was it would cause some confusion. Not only would he bring it up later if he came back in the afternoon, but it also would allow me to keep tabs on where he was and his selling speed so that I too could be back when he planned to be back. I wasn't sure how late that would be and if I could be able to sell my papes as fast as he could but I would adjust to that when the time came. Tomorrow I'd be able to see what time in the afternoon he's arrive and then the next day my mother would make full of my bet. I sighed as I stood there thinking, wondering if there was something that I was missing. But so far, there was nothing.

I sat by the window staring out over the street, finding myself hoping to see Spot pop out of an alley and run up the stairs. But of course, neither came true. I harrumphed and crossed my arms, calling myself silly for such thoughts. I was going to have to be patient with Father Time and ignore the fact that the apartment was as boring as boring was famous for. Leaning against the window my mind began to wander again, making up dreams of the days to come.


	4. Meet my Mother

As I had asked the day, the following morning I spent being bored and testing out my disguise on myself. Since school was out for me I didn't have anything to occupy my time like I normally would during the week, and the past two nights I had kept the house tidy even though we weren't going to have any guests over soon, and I wasn't sure if Spot was going to stay for dinner tonight.

Finally he showed up around four in the afternoon with grime and dirt all over his shoes and hands. Instantly I wouldn't let him in until he took off his shoes and washed up in the bathroom. He didn't rebuke to the demands and made a game of me forcing him into the bathroom, making faces at me as I pushed him in. I didn't have him take a shower due to the fact of how awkward it would have been if he had, so the sink would suffice for his cleansing of his face and hands.

As he was in the bathroom I wrapped mother's apron around me and began to prepare the steaks for dinner. I added the basic spices of salt and pepper, but sparingly used my mother's and my favorite herbs thyme and rosemary. Our storage of these herbs was really small due to the fact that they weren't that common in stores here in Brooklyn. But all the same we had it. Tonight I rubbed in a small amount of these herbs into the steaks.

And then the funniest thing happened. Being uncooked the steaks there was still blood in them. As I rubbed the herbs in the blood ran onto my hands, dripping onto the apron. There were countless stains on the white cloth, so smudges of blood on it wouldn't matter to my mother or I. I set the steaks down onto the pan I was going to cook them on and began to wipe the blood onto it. And when I turned after a slight cough behind me, I held my hands apart and my fingers were slightly bent.

Spot stood there with a towel slung over his shoulder and his hair was slick with water. His eyes widened beyond what I had seen them do already. He yelled and rushed over to me. I shrunk away with my hands out away from my body as he advanced with a scared look on his face. I dabbed them my apron and he stopped.

"What are you doing? You need to wash your wound!' he exclaimed taking my hands and dragging me to the sink.

"What do you think you're doing?" I retorted and snatched my hands away from him. He looked at me bewildered at my actions. I shoved my hands under the sink and turned on the faucet, rinsing the blood off my hands. I held my hands up to his eye level and twisted them slowly to show him my fairly unscathed palms. The only wounds on them were ones from school where I pricked myself with the sowing needles and other small sharp objects.

"But there was blood on your hands!"

"I was handling the meat for dinner," I laughed and pointed to the steaks. He looked from my hands to the steaks, and then back and forth a couple times, taking longer to connect than expected. His face softened when he realized the mistake and laughed nervously at himself. I patted his shoulder and giggled slightly.

"I hope I didn't ruin your appetite Mr. Conlon," I stated as I led him to the table to sit down. He shook his head and wiped his forehead of the nervous sweat that had broken out.

"No I haven't lost my appetite Miss Shea. I'm sure you're a good cook. I just thought you had hurt your dainty hands while I wasn't paying attention,"

"Dainty? Not at all. And if I had been hurt I would have taken care of it before you had come out from washing,"

"Then I guess I just made a fool out of myself," he said and I found it odd that a small red cloud crept onto his face. I never imagined a boy blushing before, and didn't expect him to either.

"You didn't make yourself into anything Mr. Conlon. You were just being a gentleman," I reassured. He smirked and nodded slowly as I propped his ego back up.

"You're kinder than normal today Miss Shea," he remarked, turning his head away with a mischievous smirk on his face. I narrowed my eyes in confusion. But I knew he was playing around with that little smirk of his.

"Of course I am Mr. Conlon. Would you rather me kick you out?" I asked coyly.

"Would you kick me out Miss Shea?"

"If you keep calling me Miss Shea I will. I'm just Shea,"

He smiled and patted my head. From there on in the conversation he addressed me as Shea in return for me to call him Spot. It felt weird, most men I talked to always had me say "Mr." before I said any part of their formal name, but I guess it was a part of Spot. His laid back ways and the way he talked made it easier to talk to him. One thing I looked for in people was if they could open up to me. If they acted mysterious and wouldn't talk to me, like most of the girls at the school, well I don't bother with that type of people. What Spot was doing was great. We weren't sharing deep dark and nasty secrets, but we weren't keeping anything important away from each other either.

Around six I began cooking the steaks and he sat at the table boasting about his sling shot aim and how he was the best. No one could touch his bulls-eye aim. He had been practicing since he had first got his as a gift when he was five and never let go of it since.

"I'm the best of the best. No Brooklyn Newsy would deny that either," he would say and I'd as I counted each time he said it. Which was about five times in a small time span.

"What are you giggling about over there Shea? I'm I not allowed to tell you this?" he said with fake mockery.

"Of course you are," I giggled, "But please! No more! One more time I think your head will explode from a big ego!"  
"Big ego? Me? Brooklyn Newsies don't have big egos!"

"Say that to the five times you told me you were the best of the best and the three times you said you saved the New York Newsies from getting there buttocks whipped by thugs," I laughed. He smirked and replied coyly, "You're just jealous I lead an exciting life."

I scoffed, "Am not! I am going to lead an exciting life! Just you wait and see! No wait. You won't see because you won't even know I'm doing it 'cause I'm sneaky!"

After saying that I regretted it. I had accidently let a little bit slip out, and more than I intended. My big mouth had a mind of its own, especially when it came to boasting.

"And may I dare ask what is so adventurous that you'll have to be sneaky at?" he asked with a curious raising of his eyebrows. I kept my mouth shut until I could think of something evasive to say.

"It's a secret," I said.

"You can tell me Shea. I like secrets,"

"Nope," I said and turned towards the stove acting focused on the cooking of the steaks. Honestly, it's not that easy pretending to be interested in watching steaks sizzle. As soon as I heard Spot get up, I instantly wanted to turn around and see what he was doing. I crossed my arms as if to be impatient with the slow cooking steak, but was starting to wonder why Spot's footsteps sounded louder than before.

Two hands hit my waist, fingers wiggled on contact and I fell backwards as I laughed out of control as Spot tickled me.

"Tell me!" my assailant whispered with quickening movements in his attack. I squirmed, trying to get away but found myself laughing harder with each second I was being tickled.

"No!" I laughed. He pressed on trying to get me to give in and tell him, and that's when my mother came in through the door, her face red with anger. Spot instantly let go and bowed deeply to her and I straightened my dress and cleared my throat.

"Shea Taylor Macbeth! What is the meaning of this?" she roared.

"Mother. This is Mr. Conlon. I invited him for dinner,"

"Is that so? Without consulting me first? Especially since I'm not home,"

"I beg your pardon Mrs. Macbeth," Spot interjected as he still bowed, "I didn't mean to intrude into your humble abode, but invited to share a meal and attention your daughter has kindly bestowed unto me. And I wouldn't return such compassion with anything rude or lowly like what you are probably thinking of me right now."

Mother's face lessened in tension but didn't smile either. She turned to me and crossed her arms in a simple disappointed manner.

"Your friend here has a brain Shea. Is he going to be coming here often?"

I nodded and she returned it with a slight smile.

"Next time, warn me," She said eyeing both of us. I tapped on his lowered shoulder and he stood straight up. He smirked at me and grinned, "She is as fierce as you. Maybe even fiercer,"

"Now you know where I get it from," I laughed and my mother sighed as she walked to her bedroom in the back of the apartment. Spot nudged me and I went back to the steaks that had been ignored due to the outburst my mother had just caused.

Honestly I thought she handled it much better than I expected. But since Spot had saved his own butt, I guessed he was used to dealing with outraged adults.

"I'm compassionate? Ha!" I mocked and he mocked back by acting scared and stammering mother a couple of times. I shoved him lightly and flipped the meat over. I began to boil the water I was going to use to steam the green beans for dinner as Spot sat down.

When mother returned she began telling us about her boring job and how some of the chickens ran amuck in the factory today. Spot sat there listening to her as I stood there inspecting the steaks and steamed green beans. It wasn't long until they were both talking about jobs and heaven forbid, the Newsies. She winked at me when he looked over at me, and I could tell she was having a grand old time talking to Spot. And then she began to play around on the whole subject about girls joining the Newsies without hinting anything to deal with my plan.

It took Spot sometime to time to think over this question, but decided that he was undecided on that matter. Girls could probably pull off being able to sell papes, but the streets weren't a place for them either. Throughout his explanation I sang inside my head, stubbornly ignoring the fact that my mother was setting up reasons for me not to carry out my plans.

"Do you think my Shea would be able to be a Newsy Mr. Conlon?" mother asked. I glared at him while I served them there steaks and beans. He smirked and said, "Well she isn't push over. And she's loud enough to hear over any crowd's roar. I'm sure she'd do well."

I looked to mother as I sat down, grinning triumphantly as she mulled over what Spot said. Her lips twitched into a smile and nodded. I said grace and we began to eat.

"Well! I haven't eaten this good of food in forever! I'm glad you didn't kick me out Mrs. Conlon. Other wise I would have left not knowing what I was missing!" Spot laughed, and I did too. I was glad he was joining me and my mother and that he would most likely be joining us for weeks to come.

Mother cleared her throat, startling me out of the little daze I was in. I apologized for being strange and shoved a tender piece of meat into my mouth.

When dinner was through Spot volunteered to help me clean up and Mother disappeared into her bedroom again. After ten minutes we were sitting out on the fire escape watching the street lamps flare on now that it had become dark.

"Beautiful," I heard Spot whisper.

"The night? It can be," I agreed. I looked over at him and notice he wasn't looking out over the night. Instead, he was looking at me. He shook his head and chuckled.

"Sure. Tell yourself that," he replied finally. I nudged him slightly and laughed.

"You're getting quiet," I said. He shrugged and smirked.

"Just not wanting to go back yet,"

"Who said we were kicking you out right now?"

"Well it is late, and I don't want to be an intrusion,"

"Trust me Spot, you're not being an intrusion. My mother probably fell asleep and I'm not going to fall asleep anytime soon if you're still here," I said and put my right hand on his shoulder. He smiled like a four year old that got a piece of candy from the barber.

"You're the reason I'm going to keep coming back. Not for money or the delicious food you cook. But the fun you make despite those other things you have," he whispered as he leaned over and put his forehead on my shoulder. I blushed, not knowing what to do with this and did my best to relax. I felt my face grow hotter each second longer he was like that. But I kept him there.

"Shea? Are you blushing?" he asked still in place. I jumped back and he went forward face first onto the ground with a loud thump. He groaned and I scrambled to help him up. He looked at me and I blushed again, and of course he laughed. With a lend of my hand, he stood up to his fool high and only had to slightly look down at me. With one hand he twisted my head slightly to the left and pressed his lips gently against my cheek. I had no idea why I left my hands go slack by my side, but I was glad they did. When he pulled back I blushed and thanking him. I didn't know why I was thanking him but I did. He smiled and tipped his hat.

"Good night Shea," he said and was about to descended down the stairs as quietly as he could on metal steps. I blushed and grabbed his hand. He stopped and turned to face me again. I reached up and pecked his cheek, feeling his face get hot.

"Good night Spot," I giggled and jumped through the window. I closed it and waved good night again. He smiled and jumped, almost falling on the stairs going up. I giggled and he disappeared skipping with glee down the steps. I sat with my back against the wall looking out into the night, my mind intent on new reason to join the Newsies. I whispered my favorite word in the word right now. The one word that was going to make me smile for a long time.

Spot.


End file.
